Ohh, the joys of being a mom...
Was just looking through Amazon with the little guy (okay, not so little -- he turns 12 this summer) at potential items he wants to add to his wishlist for his birthday. After going through and adding an XBox One; a PlayStation 3 and a PlayStation Vita (keep dreaming, dude) -- he went to look at the books they had on the WWE, since he loves watching and learning about wrestling.
Scrolling down the page, and all was fine and normal. There were biographies of John Cena; guide books for how to play wrestling video games; issues of "Playboy" that featured divas... Wait. What?? Insert screeching record noise here.
Well, that was new. I scrolled past and briefly mentioned it that Playboy is a magazine that features women not wearing clothes, so yeah, not adding that to the wish list. Yeah, because that wouldn't interest an almost 12-year old boy, right? Head smack.
Of course, then he wanted to keep scrolling to see if any other Playboy mags came up in the WWE books section and was cracking up laughing about it. I guess that's good that he was laughing and not all quiet -- and I know he's at that age where "the talk" will be happening soon (hell, my good friend Ginger had that talk with her kids today), but dayum, I'm not ready.
To me, my little guy is still my little guy. No, no, no to any interest in Playboy mags and the like. I'm feeling a bit like Scarlett O'Hara thinking "la di dah, tomorrow is another day". That's okay, right? :)
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